


Love Me Tender

by theressomethingaboutnarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, wedding singer au, wedding singer harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theressomethingaboutnarry/pseuds/theressomethingaboutnarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is a wedding singer, crooning out tunes at London's hippest weddings while going home alone at the end of the night. Niall Horan is always a groomsman, never the groom. As Harry and Niall lock eyes over the weddings of Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, and Liam Payne, something begins to blossom...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Tender

Harry straightened his bowtie and looked out across the room. He always felt nervous before a set, even though he had done it a million times. It was a ridiculous feeling; no one ever paid attention to the wedding singer at receptions. Most people were congratulating the bride or engrossed in their shrimp scampi. Glancing down, he looked at the crumpled set list in his hands. The bride and groom had chosen “Love Me Tender” as their song to dance to. Clearing his throat, he approached the microphone.

“Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Malik-Edwards!” he said in his smoothest, most King-like voice. “Here’s a little ditty for the happy couple.”

The crowd erupted in applause. The groom, a refined man with preternaturally stunning eyes, extended a hand to his beaming bride. They floated through the room, as light and airy as her ivory colored tulle gown. The room melted away in the golden sun of the afternoon, glinting through the chandeliers and the champagne glasses. It was as if no one existed but the bride, groom, and Harry crooning in the background.

_Love me tender…_

Gradually more and more of the crowd approached the dance floor, shaking and clapping their way through classics such as “Love Potion Number 9” and “Hard Day’s Night”. Harry got a few odd looks during “November Rain”, but hey, that’s what the groom paid him to sing. Harry smiled inwardly at his ability to turn any room into a dance floor. That’s what made him one of the most sought after wedding singers in London. But he noticed that there was one person who wasn’t dancing. He was at the bar instead, nursing a pint of Guinness and cracking jokes with the (very attractive) bartender. Harry let his thoughts, and his eyes linger a little too long on the mysterious barfly’s blonde tips, rosy cheeks, and clear blue eyes. Then, those same blue eyes turned to stare at him. The mysterious blonde smiled and raised a glass. Blushing, Harry turned away. 

“Ohhhhh Ca-rol!” he sang, “Don’t let him take your heart away…”

_Don’t let him take your heart away…_

The end of the night was always the loneliest for Harry. Packing up his equipment while everyone slowly trickled out, in pairs. Does no one come alone to a wedding? His thoughts skipped over the evening’s highlights - the Pakistani-British wedding ceremony, the cutting of the cake, and… the mysterious blonde at the bar. Who are you? Harry wondered, placing his amp in its case. As he stood up to grab the microphone from the stand, his heart tightened. The mysterious blonde was coming over, his blue eyes fixed intently on Harry. Harry swallowed and tried to think of something witty to say. He hoped he wasn’t too sweaty from the set. He wiped his brow -

“Hey, mate!” a hand grabbed his shoulder. It was the groom, a little sauced from the evening’s affairs.

The mysterious blonde turned away. Harry felt his stomach sink.

“Hey Zayn, congrats,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m a married man now, mate. Listen, you were absolutely fantastic. Just sick! You had all the ladies swooning over you!”

“That usually happens.”

“Gonna take any home for the night?”

Harry blushed. If only Zayn knew who he wanted to take home...

“Listen mate, you were so good that my chap Louis, right here,” Zayn gestured at the chestnut-haired man next to him, “is getting married next month and could use your services. What do you say?”

Louis leaned in and shook Harry’s hand, “We’d love to have you mate. And the song selection will be much better, I promise.”

“Hey now!” Zayn pushed Louis playfully.

Harry laughed. “No problem. Here’s my card.”

The groom and the groom-to-be sauntered out the doors, both teetering and using each other for support. 

“Hey Nialler!” Louis yelled, “Come and send off Zayn with me!”

The blonde turned towards the door, and joined the wedding party, but not after one last piercing glance at Harry.

Harry turned back to packing up his equipment. So his name was Niall.

*******

“I wanna stand with you on a mountain….” Harry sang. What was this set list?! Louis had promised him good songs, not cheesy nineties one hit wonders. Luckily, there was a break in the set, and he could walk over to the bar. He needed something to wash the taste of Savage Garden lyrics out of his mouth.

“Jameson, neat,” he motioned. Then, just like that, he noticed Niall next to him.

Niall flashed him a wide smile. “Good song.”

Harry downed his whiskey and shook his head. “Hey, the bride and groom pick these songs. I just sing them.”

“Well, you make them sound much better than the original. I’m Niall.” Niall stretched out his hand.

Harry smiled. “Harry. Hey, I noticed you were dancing tonight.”

Niall in fact, had taken to the dance floor during Chumbawumba (again, what was deal with these 90s songs?). Harry had smiled inside at the way Niall danced without abandon, arms flailing everywhere and completely unafraid to make a fool of himself. Niall’s absolute zest for life came through in his movements. He was ebullience incarnate.

“Oh yeah! I love to dance! Last time at Zayn’s wedding I couldn’t dance ‘cause I had just had knee surgery, but blimey if I didn’t want to! You were so good!”

“Thanks.” Harry’s heart secretly leapt at Niall’s confession that he had remembered him. Harry could have continued this conversation all night. He was conscious of the warmth radiating from Niall’s body and the softness of his lips, so pink, and the way they laughed so easily. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Louis motioning for him to get back to the stage.The wedding had Louis a little high strung.

“Well, my time’s up,” Harry got up to leave. “Now time for some, ugh, Plain White T’s” He mimed a choking motion.

Niall laughed, deep and warm. “Hey, sneak a song for me in there, wouldya?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“How about some Eagles?”

As Harry strummed the opening lines of “Hotel California”, he could feel that familiar feeling inside him when he was excited about someone, that feeling of warmth and fear all mixed up at the same time. He didn’t notice that Louis’ mouth was twisted into pouty confusion. The only person he was looking at was Niall. 

Two hours of nineties emo rock later, Harry was once again packing up at the end of the night. Louis came over to hand him a slip of paper.

“Mate, I don’t know how you did it. But yet another one of our mates Liam wants you to sing at his wedding!” He handed Harry a slip of paper with Liam’s information on it. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that you snuck in some Eagles without telling me. I’m feeling too good from being mar-ried!” Louis sung that last part of the sentence, poorly. He reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Niall, who was walking by. “Hey - Nialler! When are you gonna get married? Maybe Harry be your wedding singer!”

“I would love for Harry to be mine,” Niall said, with a meaningful look at Harry, “Here, cheers mate.” He handed Louis a pint of Guinness. 

Louis walked off, emboldened by alcohol and his newly married status. “Hey, Mrs. Calder!”

Niall nodded at Harry. “Thanks for, er, playing the Eagles.”

Harry smiled. “No problem. So is he right?” He tilted his head towards a drunk Louis. “Will I be playing your wedding as well?”

Niall took a step forward. “Well, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

Then he was closer still, leaning over Harry who was sitting on the steps of the stage, their lips almost touching. “But I do like someone.”

And that’s when it happened.

******

“So what do you usually listen to, when you’re not singing Savage Garden at weddings?” Niall asked.

Harry smirked. Only 5 hours before, they had been two people at a wedding who had never talked to each other before. Now this beautiful blonde boy was in his bed, and apparently comfortable enough to make fun of his profession.

“Well,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “I’ve always liked classics. Like Denise LaSalle.”

Niall’s brow wrinkled. “Denise La-What?”

“Here, I think you’ll like it.” Harry climbed out of bed and slipped into his boxers. He rummaged through his box of 45s for the well worn cover of “Trapped by a Thing Called Love”. His grandfather had given the record on his 13th birthday, after teaching him how to dance like a true gentleman. This is how you treat a girl, he had told Harry. If only he could see Harry now…

Harry placed the record carefully on his record player, set the needle, and pressed play. The sound of a brass band came over the speakers, jazzy and seductive. Denise LaSalle’s voice, smooth and confident, filled the room. 

“Somebody tell me,” she sang, “What has this man got...”

Harry subconsciously began to move his feet like the way his grandfather taught him. The sound of Niall’s laughter broke through his haze.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Harry held out a hand. “It’s a good song.”

Niall crawled out of bed and took Harry’s hand. Harry folded Niall close to his body. He could smell Niall’s hair wax on the blonde tips that rested against his cheek. It all felt so easy, and so right.

As they swayed together in the small apartment, Harry in his boxers and Niall in the tube socks that they had forgotten to take off in their passionate haste, Denise sang on.

_Slowly losing my mind, trapped by a thing called love…_

******

Harry had almost gotten used to Niall spending nearly every night at his apartment. The bowls of half-eaten cereal left on the counter in the mornings, he could do without, but the nights more than made up for it. Harry rubbed his eyes and pushed another half-eaten bowl of cereal out of the way so he could look over Liam’s set list over tea and toast. Niall was in the shower, belting out more Eagles songs. 

“Hey love, do you think I can pull off Drake for Liam’s wedding?” he shouted in the general vicinity of the shower. But Niall hadn’t heard him, still humming along to the Eagles.

Just then, Niall’s phone on the counter began to ring. Harry glanced over. The caller ID said Ruth. Ruth? Who was Ruth? Harry hadn’t remembered Niall saying anything about a Ruth.

“What’d you say, love?” Niall was out of the shower now, his lower half wrapped in a white towel. He still had a soap sud on one ear. “Oh, I should take this.” He grabbed his phone and went to the bedroom. Harry could hear snippets of the conversation from the other room.

“Yeah, yeah. [...] I’ll pick you up. [...] Lavender? Don’t know if I got a tie with that. [...] Corsage? Yes, I’ll remember to phone the florist. Cheers.” Niall hung up and rejoined Harry in the kitchen, taking another bite of his half eaten cereal.

Harry tried to sound as casual as possible, but he was already aware of the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Who is Ruth?”

“Oh! Ruth!” Niall was muffled between bites of cereal. “Liam’s sister. I’m takin’ her to the wedding.”

Harry felt his insides completely fall away and crash. “I thought you were taking me to the wedding.”

“Well, seeing as you’ll be busy singing and all…” Niall pushed his bowl away as he noticed the frown on Harry’s face. “Oh, love, it’s not like that. She’s my mate’s sister! I have to!”

“But doesn’t… Liam know about us?”

Niall was silent.

“You haven’t told them?” Harry pressed. The entire conversation was making him sick. He had thought Niall to be so open, so free. But it turns out that Niall too, was keeping parts of himself secret. 

“It’s not that simple.”

Harry got up and pulled on his jacket. “It is if you care about someone.” He turned to the door. “I’m late for band practice. Lock the door on your way out.”

Niall got up, his towel catching on the barstool. “Harry!” he shouted. But before his towel hit the floor, Harry was already gone.

*******

Harry’s singing was different tonight. It was more wooden, more hollow, with none of the passion and spark that usually ran through his performances. In truth his mind was far away. He hadn’t seen Niall since they had argued that one morning in his kitchen. And now Niall was here, with a giggling man on his arm while Liam’s sister Ruth sat primly at the bride and groom’s table. The sight of Niall and the other man sent daggers to Harry’s stomach. How could Niall lie to him and betray him like that? Was there ever a Ruth, or was there just this other man that Niall had not told him about?

Even Liam had noticed Harry’s distracted state. He had come up during the intermission and tapped him on the shoulder. “Everything OK, mate?”

Harry mustered up a smile. “Everything’s fine. I think I’m just not cut out to sing Drake.” 

“Ah, no worries mate. Here, I think my man Zayn here wants to DJ for a bit anyway.” Liam patted Zayn on the back, “You’re up, DJ Malik.”

Motioning to Harry, Liam helped him off the stage. “Here, go have some food from the buffet. You’re looking a little pale. I wouldn’t want anyone accusing me of starving the wedding singer.”

Harry nodded gratefully and headed to the buffet. It was true that the sight of Niall with another man had made him completely lose his appetite. But the crab cakes looked delicious, and Harry was not beyond filling up an entire plate in which he could drown his sorrows. 

After pocketing an orange for the road, Harry made his way to a nook right outside the reception door where he could eat by himself. The wedding singer, after all, was one of those pieces of the wedding that was so visible and invisible at the same time. He figured he wouldn’t rain on everyone else’s good time with his sour mood. 

Just then, a hand tapped his shoulder. Harry looked up with a mouthful of crab cake, and almost choked at the sight of Niall. 

Niall thumped him on the back. “You alright there? Didn’t mean to scare you, mate.” 

Harry swallowed, “Well I was fine, until you showed up.”

Niall looked hurt. “Don’t be like that, mate.”

“Like what?” Harry felt like shouting but was conscious to keep his voice low. “First you won’t tell Liam about us, and then you bring another man to the wedding?” He got up to leave.

“No!” Niall put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, forcing him to sit down. “It’s not what you think! I brought Grimmy so that he could be Ruth’s date. See?” He motioned toward the reception. Harry looked through a crack in the door. Grimmy was in fact making Ruth laugh and touching her hand every now and then. 

“I’m here alone.” Niall sat down next to Harry and looked at him sincerely with those irresistable blue eyes. “I’ve been an arse. I’ll tell everyone tonight, if you’ll still have me.” 

Harry was silent. He had missed Niall, but could the hurt disappear so easily in a few seconds, with a few words? As Niall waited nervously for Harry’s answer, DJ Malik began playing Bruno Mars.

“Hey,” Niall said, placing a hand on Harry’s hand and singing in time with the music, “I love you ... just the way you are.”

Harry smiled through the tears that were beginning to fill his eyes, and he reached over and kissed Niall fiercely. Niall kissed back, in relief, grabbing Harry’s collar and pulling him closer. Harry leaned in, hungry for the lips that he hadn’t kissed in weeks. Harry leaned in further, and further, and - 

“Watch out! Coming through!” 

But it was too late. A clanging and a crash sounded, and Harry and Niall found themselves on the floor, victims of a collision with the cart carrying the wedding cake. The beautiful 4 tier cake was overturned on its side on the floor, and Harry and Niall were right in middle of the destroyed cake, covered with crumbs and frosting. Everyone in the reception hall turned and stared.

“Well,” Louis arched an eyebrow, “I guess we know who will be getting married next.”

Harry laughed and wiped a piece of frosting off of Niall’s cheek.


End file.
